Azula (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itstillhurt) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
songerein2023-07-15 12:09 am
itstillhurt) wrote in songerein2023-07-15 12:09 am
Entry tags:
It Feeds On The Blood, It Feeds On The Heat
Who: Azula and various CR
Which: Noctaere Plot Log (Closed)
Where: Various locations in Reverein, the Wastelands and Interactive Dreamscapes
What: On the night of the 21st, the heat becomes unbearable. A thunderstorm rolls over Reverein, but there's no rain- posing its own problems when lightning strikes the dry earth. The shape of a bird made of blue flame can be seen fleeing from the village, but the weather disturbances remain, as does the damage it's causing. Fires are a serious concern. The unnatural storms will last until the end of the 22nd. After that, the unnatural dry and intense thunderstorm will subside into a normal heavy rainfall.
Warnings: A lot of violence, possibly including arson and burns. Also some examination of a backstory including abuse, neglect, war crimes, and themes of genocide.
Which: Noctaere Plot Log (Closed)
Where: Various locations in Reverein, the Wastelands and Interactive Dreamscapes
What: On the night of the 21st, the heat becomes unbearable. A thunderstorm rolls over Reverein, but there's no rain- posing its own problems when lightning strikes the dry earth. The shape of a bird made of blue flame can be seen fleeing from the village, but the weather disturbances remain, as does the damage it's causing. Fires are a serious concern. The unnatural storms will last until the end of the 22nd. After that, the unnatural dry and intense thunderstorm will subside into a normal heavy rainfall.
Warnings: A lot of violence, possibly including arson and burns. Also some examination of a backstory including abuse, neglect, war crimes, and themes of genocide.
no subject
He's angry, and it's clear in the way he thrashes. He wants to free himself even if it means he'll be hurt, and he wants to get to Azula. He doesn't care!! His motions, both stabbing and kicking and yanking, are accented with his words. )
Shut up! I'm tired of people trying to tell me what to do! I'm here because I want to be!
Another CW for some graphic violence.
[The massive figure rears back in shock, but not quite fast enough, the knife digging into barklike skin and fibrous muscle beneath.]
Despair not, hound. You have chosen a fine end. A noble end.
[Even as some fluid- blood? -oozes from the charred and broken skin where he stabbed it, he grins with glee, eyes wild with excitement, spinning hypnotically with unnatural light. He ignores the damage Shealtiel is doing to him, instead grabbing him roughly by the neck. His breathing gets faster, practically salivating as he begins to squeeze tightly.
And then there's a scream that's as much pain as rage, and the tip of Shealtiel's spear suddenly erupts from the below the creature's ribcage. His eyes widen in shock, and his hands slip from Shealtiel's neck as he sinks to the ground to reveal Azula, trembling from the effort, lips curled into a snarl, wheezing wetly. One hand still hangs limp at her side where it was wounded, but the other grips the spear tightly as she wrenches it out of the creature, and then stabs it again. And then again.
The creature stops moving. Azula doesn't. She's ignoring the bleeding of her arm, ignoring the awkward and unwieldy struggle of using a spear one-handed... she just keeps screaming, tears beginning to fill her eyes as she vents her aggression on the dead husk.]
no subject
He drops from where he'd been held up by the neck, stumbling and falling to a knee as he gasps for breath. When he regains it, he sees her through half-formed tears, continuing to stab the husk before her.
He shifts, forcing himself up further to stand. His leg shouldn't ache in the dream like this, even as a reflection of reality, but it does right now, and he ignores it, reaching out to touch Azula's shoulder. )
Azula. ( His voice is a little raspy after that. )
It's okay.
no subject
'lately, people have been offering me their hand even when I didn't understand it.'
Her fingers slip from the spear, and she takes a step back, visibly shaking, trying to come up with something to say.]
I'm-
[She can't even finish that thought. She averts her eyes.]
Sorry? You're sorry? That's what you said before you nearly murdered him!
[She laughs, and Azula takes a shuddering breath, clenching the fist of her one good arm to try and stave off the tears. It doesn't work.]
no subject
He fidgets with his hands, scratching at the back of his left one as he watches Azula. The older one. )
I'm not dead. I'm still here, and I'm waiting for you to come back already.
( To get through this, to beat... whatever is happening. )
I thought coming here would get through to you, and I was right. Stop listening to your doubt from the past and focus on now. You want to stop, right?
no subject
Why? Why would he ever- why would anybody-]
I-
[She can't. She can't stop. This is all she is. All she's ever been.
You okay monster. My friend monster.
He didn't know, he didn't understand-
"If you are giving up after only a small handful of attempts then perhaps all I thought I knew of you was incorrect indeed."
Ridiculous. Uncle's prattle was always so sentimental, the wisdom of wishful thinking. Even he didn't truly believe she could be anything more than-
"Stop... talking about yourself like that."
She meets his eyes, breathing ragged, struggling in vain to keep the tears in check- a habit that feels performative and pointless now, but she still can't bear to let go of it.]
You don't deserve him.
[She doesn't. She can't argue. For a moment, she just freezes, staring at him, not even really registering that she said it where he could hear it. Her gaze drops again, but she steps closer.]
You'll never deserve him. Never.
[She knows. She knows it's true. But right now, she can't bring herself to care.
She wants to say... something. Her mouth works silently for a moment, as if she could stumble onto some words, some... something she could say. But there's nothing. She can't even put the thoughts into words. The remorse. The gratitude. The fear.
Instead, she suddenly reaches out with her good arm and pulls herself against him, harshly, tightly, clinging, burying her face into his shoulder as she begins to cry again.]
no subject
Azula embraces him, and his thoughts vanish completely. His face flushes temporarily in embarrassment at the motion, but that too fades as he wraps his arms around her in return. He's careful, cautious, and tries not to add any more pressure or pain to her injuries. Dream or not, it still hurts, as he's learned...
Is he really a good person to comfort like this? He has no idea, but she still reached out for him. At her back, his fingers curl carefully into a few loose strands of her hair, and he stares up, away, trying not to think too hard.
Despite his own awkwardness and inability to be a good comfort, he knows he's relieved that she's crying for him. Maybe that means he's helping? Maybe that means she'll be okay? )
no subject
And then she feels his arms slip around her.
Why-
She expects the horrible child's voice to cut in again, but there's only silence. Her grip on him relaxes, but she doesn't let go. She can't bring herself to let go just yet.]
I-
[Once again, she can't think of anything to say. Her apologies surely meant nothing now. 'Thank you' seemed inadequate. What he's put up with from her, what he's still tolerating from her. Why anybody would ever-]
... I don't understand.
[She murmurs it into his shoulder. Weak. Needy. Pathetic. Not remotely useful.]
no subject
( Shealtiel's voice is a little quiet, but it's as earnest as ever. He doesn't move his arms or hands, aside from loosening his curl on her hair a little out of strange embarrassment he can't explain. He breathes deeply, collecting himself.
She's human, but she's Azula. There's fear deep in with the rest of his mix of emotions, but there always has been. There might always be, with humans. He's not sure how to stop it.
Right now, though, this seems fine. Comfortable, even. )
I told you we're friends. I'm not going to just leave you alone... stupid.
( The "stupid" is the weakest, most pathetic attempt at emphasis he's ever uttered to her. )
no subject
And then he calls her stupid, in that petulant, ridiculous tone of voice.
She's not sure what about it strikes her as so funny, but she can't help but laugh, an absurd sobbing laugh completely bereft of dignity, holding him tighter with her one good arm. The tension completely drains from her. It's... ugly, it's undignified, it's ridiculous, but at least it finally feels like peace.]
no subject
( Shealtiel mumbles that, but it's clear from his pouting tone that he's very aware of what's so funny, and he doesn't expect an answer. Instead, he squeezes his hands in his hold, though he's careful not to do so too tight, and allows her to laugh it out.
It's nice, after all. The sound, the feeling. It's like their surroundings disappear, and for a moment it's all he focuses on. Maybe... this is what he can do? Is it supportive? Is it helpful? He's anxiously doubting himself, but it's a distant buzz compared to this more relaxed hug.
...It's a pretty long hug. But he doesn't want to end it himself, either... )
I knew I'd be able to get through to you here.
no subject
When he speaks, though, she finally forces herself to pull back from him, slowly, reluctantly, her face falling again.]
... You can't save me out there.
no subject
( Despite what might be expected, Shealtiel seems to agree with her, slowly dropping his hands when she pulls away from him enough. )
But you can save yourself, and I can be here to support you through it. I read up on these things. As much as I could! But in the end, I can't do anything for you outside of this dream world, so I tried looking at it from another angle.
( He sighs softly, folding his arms behind his back in quiet nervousness. )
It's not what you'd want either, right? Being "saved" or whatever. But... Me reaching out to you like this might make a difference, even if I'm not really good at it.
no subject
Right now...]
They'll probably have to kill me.
[She doesn't know how one gets over being a Noctaere, but considering how many people she's hurt, how much destruction she's caused...]
no subject
( It's the most certain he's ever sounded while speaking to Azula, and he's clearly irritated at the idea. No, beyond that-- angry. Not at her, but the idea itself. He subconsciously stands a little taller. He'd been slowly feeling more and more tired, and that's no different now, but this topic is sensitive...
He doesn't want her to die, after all. And he did a LOT of reading. Not just after she turned into that fire bird, but before, when he was hiding away. )
Dreamotion is the key. I may not be good enough at it right now, but someone will be. You just have to hang in there.
( He doesn't know how long he can stay in this dream, like this. Exhaustion is setting in, but he doesn't want to just vanish... )
no subject
For a moment, she considers arguing the point- that nobody would ever be patient and forgiving enough to try to spare her, not now, not after everything. That trying to keep her alive would be foolish after all this. That it sounded easier anyway.
But she doesn't want to argue, and... she suspects it would upset him. And upsetting him, in what was probably their last moment together, sounds inexplicably agonizing.
... so she doesn't. She doesn't argue. Unfortunately, she can't think what else to say instead. There's no suitable narrative, no fitting lie, no way to retrieve this... this humiliating, horrible failure, the hideous writhing guilt she feels in the face of that unyielding patience... she can't fix it. She can't manipulate it. She can't redirect this.
She doesn't even plan what eventually comes out- weak, almost pleading, pathetic, but she's decided that's probably inevitable. The resignation doesn't make her hate it any less]
... please stay. Until-
[... until she's gone, she almost says, but- well, she didn't want to say that, she'd already decided.]
Until I wake up.
no subject
But he's probably thinking too much of it, and so he brushes that train of thought aside to focus. It's hard to stay here, and he's going to be exhausted, but for a request like that? He can do it. )
Of course.
( He pauses and shifts his weight slightly from one foot to the other. )
I wasn't going to just leave you.
( So, he'll stay like this until she wakes up. She'll be just fine, when that happens. And until then, maybe he can fill the time rambling about the angels in his division, the way that the system works, things like that. Things to lighten the mood, if she'll listen. )
no subject
She hates herself for needing him then. She hates herself for being afraid, for being desperate. She hates himself for depending on him, and hates herself even more for what she did to him. She hates, most of all, the deep, overwhelming surge of relief that floods over her when he says it. The power it had- still has- over her. It's irrational. It's weak. It's selfish. More selfish still, since she's lying to him. She believes- she's certain- that she won't wake up at all.
Well. He's free to hate her for lying after that, if he must.
Pathetic and a monster. At the same time. Again.
She says nothing. She doesn't approach him again. The dream around them changes, shifting to the roof of their old apartment building- as dark and empty as the rest of the dream had been when Shealtiel arrived- and she scarcely notices the change even as she sits down on the edge of the building near him.
She won't speak. But if he talks, she'll listen. If only to hear his voice and know he's there.]